


Intermezzo

by isitandwonder



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Dom/sub, M/M, Marking, Spanking, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 04:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16256570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isitandwonder/pseuds/isitandwonder
Summary: Armie visits Timmy during the filming of Dune.This is for beyondbakerstreet, who wanted a fic for her birthday that featured those tight survival suits from Dune, marking, biting, breathplay, maybe taking place during the first SATSOY epilogue...This is what I came up with. I hope you like it.Warning: There might be elements to this that could seem slightly non-con, but they are in a committed relationship and both like and agree with the dynamic. They get off on it. And as it might be set in the SATSOY orbit, a touch of darkness was unavoidable.





	Intermezzo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SH141BeyondBakerstreet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SH141BeyondBakerstreet/gifts).



Those _Dune_ survival suits are tight. Like – really tight. REALLY. So skintight that Timmy had to shave off all his body hair. Everywhere. Arms, legs, armpits, crotch… even in places he didn’t even know he HAD hair to begin with.

Because, otherwise, pulling the garment on and off would feel like being skinned alive. The suit is made of a grey-brownish rubber-neoprene-mesh-mix that clings to everything. Only clean-shaven like a newborn and covered in talcum powder is Timmy able to dress and later undress.

It’s a strange feeling. Like a plucked chicken. When he showers, his skin itches. It’s usually sensitive, easily irritated, but now he feels almost raw. He has to use lotion. His smooth arms and legs look as if they don’t belong to him. He remembers shaving his shins for Cabaret back in high-school – cutting himself so often that his mother told him the bathroom looked like a slaughterhouse - but never his whole body.

When Armie comes visiting for a weekend three weeks into shooting, Timmy is initially shy to get naked. They’ve mostly been doing green screen stuff in Pinewood Studios in London, moving out to Hungary for the outdoor scenes next week, so Armie took the chance and flew over before Tim will be MIA for months in the Eastern-European Puszta.

Because he’s not sure if Armie will like his new appearance, he asks him to wait outside his dressing room while he gets out of his costume. Armie frowns but gets up and leaves.

When Timmy discovers that he only brought shorts and a t-shirt with him it’s too late. Armie will see.

It takes Armie only thirty seconds of looking Timmy up and down, his frown deepening, before Timmy knows he’s recognized. To anyone else, it probably wouldn't be that obvious but Armie knows Timmy's body inside out so of course he immediately spots his hairless calves and lower arms.

Armie tilts his head, lifts an eyebrow and whistles. Timmy blushes a deep beetroot. Armie licks his lips, reaches for Timmy’s hand and entwines their fingers. As he pulls Timmy close he asks: “Do you look like that all over?”

Timmy nods, biting his lips, leaning against Armie’s broad frame.

“Let’s get one of those black cabs then, baby. God, I have so many ideas.” He subtly adjusts himself and Timmy breaks into a grin.

“We have the whole weekend.” He whispers against Armie’s bristly neck, breathing him in.

^^^^^^

They make the best of it. Armie's seems fascinated with Timmy's smooth, naked body. 

“Your skin feels like silk.” He whispers as he slowly unwraps Timmy like a Christmas present, taking his time to brush his stubble over tender milky planes before dipping into hidden crevices, making Timmy squirm. His body tingles all over. Armie’s beard leaves red scratches on Timmy’s limbs that he soothes with his lips and tongue until Timmy is panting with desire and impatience.

“Eager, are we?” Armie asks before kissing Timmy, sucking and nipping at his lower lip until he whimpers. When Timmy reaches for him to pull him closer, however, Armie grabs both his thin wrists in one large hand and holds them up above Timmy’s head.

“No, no, no.” He shakes his head. “You’re such a spoiled brat. Being the star here got to your pretty head I see. It’s time to teach you some humility.”

“Please, Armie, I’ll be so good-“ Timmy gasps, bucking his hips.

“Oh, I’ll make sure of that.” Armie scrapes his stubbly chin all the way up Timmy’s sternum. “On your knees, baby. Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

Timmy loves the little games they play. It’s been a while. Yet he still knows his role. It’s a relief to be allowed to slip back into it. Timmy has missed this.

It’s so easy. He just has to do as he’s told. Armie will take care of him.

Therefore, when Armie releases Timmy’s arms, he sinks to the floor like a repentant sinner, turning away from Armie, getting on his elbows and knees on the thick night-blue carpet of his hotel suit.

He knows what’s expected of him, how Armie wants him. He’s been very clear the first few times and rather strict when Timmy hadn’t complied with his orders because he’d been too ashamed. But Armie had freed him from his qualms. The hard thrashings had been deserved and were administered with care. Timmy had needed them to find his place in their relationship. Armie beating him raw helped him to see his true calling.

Yet he still blushes when he reaches back, now balancing his weight on his shoulders, to pull his cheeks apart, presenting Armie his smooth, hairless hole. But at the same time he’s so turned on that his erection twitches against his belly. Shame and want blur into a heady mix of desire, making Timmy do and love the most depraved things  
He hears Armie remove his belt and shudders but doesn’t duck away.

“Who has been in their since the last time we met?” Armie asks, his voice harsh.

“No one.” Timmy whispers.

Thack!

Armie’s belt hits Timmy square over his right buttock and the back of his right hand. He sucks in a breath but stays in position.

“Don’t lie to me, baby, or I’ll make sure you won’t be able to sit for days.”

“No one. Just…”

“Yes?” Armie’s tone is dangerously low.

“Just me. I … I fingered myself, thinking of you.” Timmy’s face is burning.

“Often?”

“Ye-es. Almost every night.”

“Greedy little thing. Show me.”

Timmy’s left hand is trembling as he tries to press his index finger inside the the tight ring of muscle.

“It’s too dry.” He complains after a few fruitless trials.

This time it’s Armie’s palm that comes down onto his ass, the impact pushing Timmy forward on the carpet. He’ll have carpet burn on his knees tomorrow. The thought makes him smile.

“Stop whining and get on with it.” Armie sounds a little annoyed.

Timmy closes his eyes. He knows what he needs. Armie knows what he needs. But he’ll make Timmy beg for it.

“Can you spit on me, please?” He asks, his voice almost inaudible.

“Spit on you?” Another slap on the same cheek. “You need to be more precise, baby. And much more humble.”

“Can you please spit on my hole so I can finger myself for you?” Timmy’s voice is shaking. He wants to curl up with embarrassment. He can’t believe he just said this out loud. But when a cold, wet dollop lands right between his check he can feel his hole twitch and his abdominal muscles quiver because he really, really wants this.

It’s so much easier to press one finger inside with a bit of saliva. And Armie continues to help him, providing more spit for each finger he orders Timmy to put into himself until he has four knuckle-deep inside his ass, pumping in and out.

“Does it hurt, baby?” Armie asks softly.

Ye-es, a bit.” Timmy whimpers. It’s a lie. It hurts a lot. But that doesn’t prevent his cock from trickling precome on the carpet. He’s a whore for this; a whore for Armie.

“Rub your sweet spot a bit for me. I wanna see you milking yourself.”

Timmy moans as he finds the bundle of nerves. He’s become quite good at that. God, his balls are so full. The first times he had been made to do this it had taken him hours, until he’d felt sore inside and out. But practice has made it easier.

He quickly starts to drip in earnest, thin, clear spunk continuously welling up from his slit, getting cloudy white as the minutes pass. Timmy watches and knows that Armie watches as well, and this makes him lose all inhibitions.

“I love this.” Armie tells him as he smears his fingers through the puddle of goo seeping into the carpet.

The praise washes over Timmy like warm treacle. “Feed it to me, please.” He says, opening his mouth. As the sticky fingers touch his lips he starts to suck greedily.

“I should give you nothing else to eat over the whole weekend.” Armie smiles down at him. Timmy hums around his fingers, still fucking himself on his own. “God, you look lovely like this, stuffed full at both ends.” Armie sighs.

Timmy laps at Armie’s fingers, his tongue circling them as he holds his gaze. Just imagining how deprived he must look makes him almost come. Armie senses his desperation.

“Okay, enough, I think you’re ready.” He removes his fingers from Timmy’s mouth and grabs his short curls. As he pulls Timmy up onto his knees he says: “Stop playing with yourself. Take my cock out. Carefully.”

Timmy feels empty as he deftly unbuttons and unzips Armie, sighing longingly when he feels his huge hard cock in his hand. But he knows better than to lick or squeeze it. In the past, this had earned him hard slaps in the face for which he had to thank Armie afterwards. Instead of his cock he had gotten a vibrator up his ass the whole night, making him come and come until he almost lost consciousness because of the exhaustion. He'd felt drained for days.

So now he waits until being told what to do.

“Suck it, but just the tip. Play with your nipples.”

Timmy does. Until, suddenly, Armie pushes in deep, deeper, not even stopping when Timmy starts to gag. He fucks his mouth and throat for a few minutes until Timmy’s drooling, spit dripping down his chin, eyes watering.

“God, your bloody mouth might even be better than your tight little hole.” Armie grunts, one hand still in Timmy’s hair, forcing him to open wider and wider. His other hand rests on Timmy’s throat, feeling himself move in there.

All Timmy can do is try to keep breathing through his nose. His nipples feel on fire from the constant stimulation but he hasn’t been allowed to stop.

When Armie slides from his mouth, he’s coughing and panting. Armie stares down at him, eyes dark and hungry. Timmy knows he looks like the slut he is: His skin feels hot all over, his cock is jutting out in front of him, his face is wet with spit and tears and sweat and his nipples are red and swollen. His hairless body is trembling, with lust, screaming to be taken.

“God, you poor thing, you need it bad, don’t you?”

“Yes, Armie.” Timmy's voice is hoarse. His throat is sore, his jaw hurts.

“Then let me give you what you need.”

He sits back in one of the large Chesterfield leather armchairs and Timmy crawls into his lap.

He knows he hasn't earned the privilege to use lube, not yet, so he’s grateful that Armie’s cock is slick with spit and precome and his hole is lose from fingering himself. He rubs the head of Armie’s cock a few times over his entrance, feeling the hot flesh pulsing in his hand.

“What are you waiting for? Take it.” Armie bites down on his shoulder, hard, and doesn’t let go until his cock is fully inside Timmy, his sitting bones digging into Armie's muscular thighs.

He’s so big. Timmy can feel him in his stomach. Is it possible that he feels even bigger after all the time apart? Timmy steadies himself with one hand to Armie’s chest and the other on the armrest as he starts to ride him the way he knows Armie likes: slowly sliding up and down the whole length of Armie’s almost horse-sized cock, clenching his sphincter now and then to provide a little extra surprise.

Armie lets him do all the work while his own hands roam Timmy’s smooth body, his nails scraping his white skin, fingers pinching his most sensitive parts. Timmy watches as red marks bloom on his chest, thighs and abdomen, fighting hard not to lose his rhythm.

“You look ethereal, Tim. Like a spectre. Or a nymph. A faun. Otherworldly. You glow.” Armie whispers against his neck before biting down again, so high on his throat that the collar of his survival suit won’t hide it. He will need make-up there on Monday. And he’ll have some explaining to do. The thought makes him cringe. And Armie knows that. He's doing it on purpose, to expose Timmy, to humiliate him in front of his colleagues. Just the thought makes Timmy grind down faster. 

Armie's claiming him in the most base, primal way. And Timmy doesn’t have a say in it. Because his body belongs only to Armie. He can do what he wants with him.

And right now he seems to wanna fuck Timmy, hard and fast. He grabs Timmy’s hips at both sides as he starts pounding up into him. Timmy clutches his shoulders but Armie's too strong, it's too intense, so he wraps his arms around Armie’s stubbly neck, buries his face against his soft t-shirt and let’s Armie take him.

His own orgasm a few moments later is almost dry due to the previous milking but he can feel Armie swell and pulse inside him as he shoots what feels like an enormous load. Timmy rides it out, circling his hips, pressing down, tightening his muscles to massage every last drop from Armie’s cock.

They end up in a sweaty, panting pile of limps, come drying between them.

“Hey…” Armie lifts his chin with two fingers, gently kissing Timmy’s lips. “Are you with me? Was it too much?”

Timmy can only shake his head. He’s past words, his brain turned to mush.

“Jesus, I really got carried away. I’m so sorry, Tim…” Armie slides out, gathering Timmy up in his arms, rocking him back and forth. His fingers dance over the marks he’s left, angry red welts against Timmy’s pale, hairless skin. “I’ll run you a bath. And I have some aloe ointment.”

Timmy hums, his eyes fluttering shut. He doesn’t care. He loves the pain. He wants everyone to see. What he can take. Whom he belongs to.

He hopes by Sunday night his whole body will look like a battlefield.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder but apparently it also makes his lover more dominant, aggressive and reckless. Just how Timmy likes it.

He smiles when Armie carries him over into the bathroom a little while later. “Will you tie me up afterwards and choke me?” He asks in his most innocent voice.

“Of course, baby. I’ll do anything you want.”


End file.
